MultiTasking
by Aeriel Ravenna
Summary: It’s Hermione’s best kiss. Only she would actually THINK at the same time. One-Shot. PG for slight innuendo. Emphasis on 'slight.'


**Multi-Tasking**

By

Aeriel Ravenna

Rated: **PG (for slight innuendo)**

Summary: **It's Hermione's best kiss. Only she would actually THINK at the same time. One-Shot.**

** A / N : I should be working on my real story. However, I felt the urge to write this a lighter, fluffier story. Tell me if I'm horrible at writing anything remotely resembling humor. It was kind of funny to me! Enjoy, review if you would. Thanks! **

Hermione had never been in such a position in her life.

She was supposed to be a prude. She _prided_ herself on her self-control. Hormones were _dangerous_.

So why in bloody Merlin's name was she sandwiched between a stone wall and a highly sex-driven teenaged male? One who, in fact, had made her living hell for the past six years?

She didn't really know, and she couldn't think very clearly. She figured it was either the silky strand of blonde hair brushing across her forehead—which most certainly didn't belong to her wildly tangled brown mop—or perhaps it was the fact that his rather sensual lips were rather close to hers.

So close, in fact, that she was having a little trouble breathing. He seemed to be suffering from the same ailment. She wondered briefly if it was an atmospheric problem. She dismissed the thought and turned her expansive mind to the problem that was right in front of her.

His eyes were half lidded. She thought at first that he was perhaps a bit far-sighted, and thus had to squint a little to see her, then mentally smacked herself as she recognized the look.

That was—and she shivered in a not entirely pure way just thinking it—the look of a teenage boy who figures he's about to _score_. About to score a hot (or at least semi-hot) piece of ass.

She blushed even as she thought it. Who knew she could be so coarse?

She was about to ask him exactly why he was pressing so close to her—and if he would mind not breathing quite heavily, she had a bit of a pet peeve toward mouth-breathers—when he found his chance and leaned forward.

His lips connected solidly with hers and their teeth clunked together a bit awkwardly, due to the fact that he had just stumbled a little leaning forward. She wasn't quite sure how he managed to do that—it had felt as if he was pressed as close as possible to her already—but he had done it, nevertheless.

Now the kiss didn't feel so inept, now that he had balanced himself. Actually, it was a little bit nice, if you forgot the whole ribs-being-crushed-against-stone-and-it-was-Draco-Malfoy thing. He wasn't too harsh, or too soft, either. It was a kiss as frank as she liked to think _she_ was—utterly stating that he simply wanted to kiss her, not out of love of uncontrollable animalistic lust, because who could feel that for a girl who hid in oversized robes that still didn't manage to quite reach her shoe tops?

Hermione had been kissed exactly six-point-five times. Twice by Ron, though she didn't like to remember—his lips were grossly sweaty or _something _and he was quite clumsy—three times by Viktor Krum, once by a boy she had met at a Muggle friend's party, but that was only for New Year's. The point-five was a kiss that she wasn't sure really counted. True, her lips had solidly connected with a male, but the said male was only three-ish and he wouldn't let her leave her post as Baby-Sitter-Extraordinaire until she kissed him.

Hermione giggled into Draco's mouth, almost forgetting they were semi-attached. She saw his hazy grey eyes snap open questioningly, and he drew away slightly. She only shrugged. He returned the gesture and returned to Hermione's lips. She wasn't really sure why, but she wasn't quite arguing.

The kiss was a bit better now. It was escalating, she assumed, due to the fact that one, they both had fresh supplies of oxygen rushing through their lungs, and two, they were both better prepared.

He was nibbling on her lip lightly when she realized that she wasn't even trying to return the kiss. _Self control has never felt so unfulfilling, _she thought a little sheepishly. She let out a small sigh into Draco's mouth, who she was sure was grateful for the extra oxygen or carbon dioxide or whatever. Science wasn't really her subject; though she was loathe to let anyone know.

_Well, it can't hurt to reciprocate a little, _she thought. This would be her indulgence for the night—she warned herself that she wouldn't get any dessert now, but her foolish lips seemed to be determined to partake in the lip-war.

She deepened the kiss, surprised at her own daring. _Why you little minx!_ She thought amusedly to herself. Draco had opened his eyes once more and his eyes portrayed much the same thought. He wasn't pulling away, though; she assumed he didn't mind overly much.

Now his tongue, which she found to be a little oddly pointed but not unpleasant, was darting into her mouth, a little like a snake. She shuddered a little but Draco paid no mind. She didn't like snakes very much, though she didn't mind his tongue in her mouth.

The oddity of the moment suddenly struck her. There she was, stuck up against a stone wall, kissing and being kissed furiously by the last person she'd expect to give her _that_ sort of a kiss—and she had his _tongue_ in her _mouth_. It seemed really quite bizarre that she had a wet bit of someone else's nerves stuck in her mouth—and she flushed as the _other _implications of that thought floated into her head.

But really, it was funny. She giggled again.

Draco pulled away and stared at her incredulously. "You know, Granger, you're terribly odd," her murmured, still close enough that his lips brushed against hers with each word.

The strand of his hair was swinging slightly before her eyes. She almost reached up to brush it away, but then thought better of it. It felt _nice_ there. Like it belonged, and who was she to argue with emotions that she could, for all she knew, never experience again?

"If you think about it _is_ funny," she whispered back. He smiled slightly, crinkling his stormy eyes.

"Only you, Granger, would think during the best kiss of your life," he smiled—not smirked, she noted. She liked his smile, though his smirk was undeniably sexy as well.

"What makes you think it's the best of my life?" she shot back quietly, but her eyes took the truth out of the denial.

"Well, I figure this," Draco said, leaning upon her a little. "If it wasn't, you'd have slapped me to get off by now," She smiled at his reasoning. She was glad he could be logical.

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," she replied. He looked confused. "Sorry, Muggle thing," she said, stifling a laugh.

"Right. Well, if you'll excuse me, this was a very nice little chat, but I have some things to attend to," he smirked. Hermione's eyes flashed. So she was just a snog-and-run fallback girl? That was low, even for Draco.

"Merlin, I cant believe—" she started, but he cut her off with a quick press of his lips to hers.

"As I was saying, I have plans to ravish this girl, see. The only thing is, at the moment her nails are currently dug into my wrist and I'm not really into the whole pain-with-pleasure thing," he smirked.

"Oh," Hermione flushed, and removed her nails from his wrist. "Let's discuss these plans, then, shall we?" She felt daring just saying it. She wasn't really going to shag him, though. Or was she? It was quite muddled, rather like staring at a teacup filled with dregs and trying to find omens in it. She didn't like divination.

However, she did like his lips rather a lot. And he wasn't as cocky—she smirked a little at the pun—when they were, ahem, talking.

Divination-ish muddle, good snogging. Divination-ish muddle, good snogging.

She decided they rather evened out.

As she placed her lips firmly on his once more, she marveled at her brilliant multi-tasking talent.

She was, to her knowledge, the only one who could think and snog at the same time.


End file.
